Author Christina Thompson

Author: The Eclectic World of Christina

I recently did a podcast with C.K. Brooke, a fellow 48fourteen author and gracious hostess. In my usual awkwardness with social media, I had a pit in my gut for a week leading up to this interview. This fun chat between authors made me want to barf. (FYI: I suck at small talk.) However, my New Year’s resolution was to do new things.

I’ve never used Skype so my tech savvy son and daughter gave me a tutorial—basically Look there, Click here. Great! Got it!

Luckily, my son, an avid gamer, set me up using his equipment. I wasn’t totally clueless—listen through the headphones and talk into the microphone. I’ve seen his charismatic stream on Twitch many times so I would try to channel my inner Son.

To practice, I Skyped with my daughter. Surprisingly, I had fun with her—talking like Johnny Fever spinning records in his booth. (Yeah, I know. I dated myself.)

The morning before the call, I paced. I already had a list of possible topics to keep from freezing up. My big concern now was choking, figuratively and literally, but my son pointed to the mute button for those emergencies. With two thumbs up, I took a deep breath, flashed back to Mr. Martin’s high school speech class, and then cringed.

Game time!

C.K. Brooke was an absolute delight. With my background in holistic health, I talked about my experience with Past Life Regression and how it related to my writing. She had written a series on the topic, The Past-Life Chronicles Vol. 1 andThe Past-Life Chronicles Vol. 2. (I already downloaded my copies. The idea of past lives has always fascinated me.)

C.K. has a natural gift as an interviewer and she understands the nuances of promoting on social media. I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn from her. She. Is. Awesome.

After the interview, I wondered why I was so nervous. Would I do this again? Sure. Would I still be nervous? Of course.

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If you’re a fan of the Series and love Joe and the rest of the gang, you’ll want to read Searching for Her. Secrets are revealed that aren’t in the other books. Here’s your chance to confirm your suspicions AND you can now download it for FREE!

Searching for Her, an anthology of short stories about Joe Roberts from The Chemical Attraction Series, takes place after The Kindred Code leading into Chemical Attraction. During the eight-year span of these seven stories—as seen through the eyes of his family—Joe gradually loses faith that he’ll find his soulmate.

His sisters, Taylor and Eva, conspire to help him. Convinced Madeline Pierce is his perfect match, Eva and Madeline’s Aunt Sylvia push for a connection. Each time they try to force a meeting, it backfires.

Unbeknownst to Joe and his family, the Synchronicity of the Universe is at work. Can Joe decipher the subtle signs pointing him toward Destiny’s grand plan with Madeline? Many could die if he doesn’t.

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My background in biology gave me a love of science and an insight into the physical realm of the body. My holistic understanding of Traditional Chinese Medicine taught me that LOVE affects the body in powerful ways.

As a retired acupuncturist, I now enjoy writing about the physical science, the emotional workings of our mind and heart, and the spiritual energy that taps into our passions. I think Chemistry can be considered Holistic Science. What do you think?

Enjoy this excerpt from Chemical Attraction

Joe would investigate her suspicions into the company, which would pair them together for the next few days. How exciting! Who would have guessed Aunt Sylvia’s mystery man was Eva’s brother and the FBI agent sent to help her?

In a formal dance position, Madeline shivered slightly at Joe’s warm hand on her waist. His other holding hers set a wave of heat to her face. She craved more of his touch. She gently squeezed his bicep and shoulder. Even through his suit jacket, she felt his taut muscles.

She inhaled his cologne mixed with his sweat from drumming earlier. He oozed a chemical attraction. As a neuroscientist, she had read about the effects of pheromones. Fascinated, she wanted to lean in closer to taste his neck. She blinked and stiffened slightly. Calm down! Joe was here officially as an agent of the FBI. And she would not become one of those women in his phone.

But, it had been a year since she danced in a man’s arms, her uncle’s arms. Most men couldn’t dance, not that she bothered to find out for sure. It didn’t surprise her that Joe knew how. She supposed it was another way of impressing women. And, damn, if it wasn’t working.

Joe moved her around the dance floor with ease as if they were the only ones there. His body heat lulled her into a fantasy world … the envy of all the young women who had flirted with him earlier. Yes, she had kept track.

When the next song’s tempo increased, he moved her so quickly that her bun began to unravel. She laughed. Was this what fun was like?

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Born on December 31st, I was considered “Daddy’s Little Deduction”. (I’m glad as a baby I could help the family out. Ha.) To celebrate my birthday this year, my New Year’s Eve romance, The Garden Collection, is on SALE for $0.99 until 1/3/19. In this story, Robert Donovan learns that home is where his heart is.

Robert and Brianna’s childhood friendship grew into respect for each other and their ideas. Robert gave her the confidence to stand up for herself. Brianna helped him see his artistic potential and encouraged him to travel for his inspiration. He found it in the letters she wrote.

BRIANNA CARLSON, an optimistic realist, appreciates the little things in life. Working at the local diner in their wintry rural town in West Michigan, she pushes the stress of caring for her half-sister, CHLOE, aside focusing instead on the unconditional love she gives and receives.

Her best friend’s brother, ROBERT DONOVAN, regally proper and polished, balances his business acumen with his artwork for his family’s jewelry store.

In THE GARDEN COLLECTION, a Cinderella-esque romance, Brianna receives news that her abusive step-father will be released from prison. She’s terrified he’ll come back to hurt Chloe this time. She decides to leave town.

After traveling the world, Robert returns home and discovers Brianna had lied in every letter she sent. She never received any of his. Before he can demand answers, she disappears without Chloe. As Robert learns about Brianna’s life during his absence, he sets out to find her and convince her to trust him again.

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As part of my short story anthology, Searching for Her, I wrote “Purple Roses” for those missing loved ones during the Holidays. It’s also for the lonely ones searching for love.

Joe Roberts and Sylvia Folkert are two of my favorite characters in The Chemical Attraction Series. I wanted to give them a poignant scene through the remembrance of a lifetime of love and the hint of a new passion with all its possibilities.

“Purple Roses”

In her black winter boots and wool coat, Sylvia Folkert slipped on the top step of her big farmhouse-style bed and breakfast. The softball of used tissues flew out of her purse and dispersed across the wraparound porch. Her gloved hands broke her fall forward. She twisted her knee, but she thought she could walk off the ache. In her early sixties, she couldn’t afford a broken hip in this day and age.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a grateful glance toward the overcast sky.

Setting her purse inside the door, she grabbed the jug of winter salt and sprinkled it across the porch and steps, a basic melt of the snow and ice since the B & B would be empty until next week. Her hired man had done the intense shoveling of her small parking lot and sidewalks yesterday. The forecast projected only light snow tonight.

After hunting down all the tissues, she dropped the wet wad into the trash just inside the door, slipped off her outerwear, and then smoothed down the static cling of her favorite navy blue dress. This morning’s church service wasn’t as joyous as usual. The young children’s choir usually made her smile. Today, she cried. Christmas wasn’t the same without her sweet husband, Herbert, who rose to heaven three months ago.

She and Herbert had talked about funeral provisions. However, he died so quickly she never had a chance to say goodbye. Her grief had been unbearable. She and her niece, Madeline, leaned heavily on each other. While Madeline lost herself in her work, Sylvia started talking to Herbert as if he could hear her.

“Are you with me today, my Love?” she asked. “I desperately need a sign that you are.”

She paused and listened. The blue and white Christmas lights were silently coiled around the cedar and spruce boughs throughout the parlor and living room. The wood and ceramic nativities soundlessly surrounded Baby Jesus on the two corner tables. The abundance of red and white poinsettias remained quiet, too.

“Madeline and I should have gotten a tree. I’m sorry, Darling,” she said, looking at the empty space in front of the bay window. Herbert had brought home a live tree every Christmas since they bought the B & B over thirty-five years ago, replanting them throughout town in the spring.

A few blocks from Allenton’s downtown shops, the historical farmhouse had two other bedrooms and a small bathroom on the main floor next to her large country-style kitchen. Four bedrooms, her living quarters, and another communal bathroom were on the spacious second floor.

In the kitchen, she opened the cupboard under the sink for the dust rag. She needed to keep busy, and this would help work out the stiffness in her knee. She preferred to stay home today even though she and Madeline were invited to Eva and Matt Connor’s for dinner. She’d encourage her niece to go.

“You know, Herbert, my favorite chore has always been dusting,” she said to the cold emptiness.

After adjusting the thermostat, she started in the parlor by the front door. With a sad smile, she reminisced about each of her knickknacks, which held wonderful memories. She carefully dusted her homemade gold and burgundy stained glass lamp with golden tassels, the stand made from the thick banister of Herbert’s childhood home back in Alaska, Michigan, a golf course now. Herbert had made the Tiffany-style lamp the first year they were married.

“After forty-four years, it still works,” Sylvia said not at all surprised by her husband’s craftsmanship.

She moved on to her large cherry curio cabinet with a few antique vases. Herbert loved buying her flowers for milestone events in their life, some good, some bad. Every moment reminded her that they had weathered them together.

Eyes glistening, she held a tall, pale pink, crystal vase. Long ago, it was full of tulips and daffodils. The morning after the doctor told them they couldn’t have children, she found the spring flowers on the kitchen table. God’s plan was greater than theirs Herbert had said. Grateful for all they did have, they had kept their faith alive, together.

“You were a wonderful uncle,” she said, sniffling her nose. The various trinkets in her China cabinet shared more of her and Herbert’s life story.

Sylvia slowly shuffled into the living room and swiped the top of her baby grand piano, a gift from him on their tenth wedding anniversary. He had said we needed more music in our lives. In the large room, they often pushed the furniture against the wall making a small dance floor on the hardwood. For their guests, Sylvia would play and Herbert offered to teach the waltz.

Madeline had become an accomplished piano player and social dancer. They adored their niece as if their own daughter.

Sylvia chuckled. “Do you remember what you said to me the night it was delivered?” she asked the empty room. “You said that I could teach Madeline to play during the summers she stayed with us, so we could dance. You were always a schemer.”

Glancing across the room, she smiled at the nineteen collectable wall plates on the special shelves Herbert had made to hold them in place. Madeline’s mother, Allison, had sent one to her after each of her worldly adventures as an environmentalist. The collectables were nature paintings of wild animals near prairies, forests, lakes, and oceans. Allie gave her a doe and fawn at the edge of a meadow as her way of telling them she was pregnant with Madeline.

“Herbert, will you hug my baby sister?” Sylvia asked, sitting on the piano bench. She looked around hoping for a sign. Her faith wavered. Hearing the kitchen’s back door open, she wiped her eyes and checked the wall clock behind her. Eleven-thirty.

“You’re later than usual,” Sylvia said to her sweaty niece in her winter running gear.

“I know,” Madeline said, unscrewing her water bottle in the kitchen doorway. “I told myself rain or shine, but it was really hard getting out of my warm bed this morning.”

Sylvia tossed the rag back under the sink and started a pot of coffee. After Herbert died, Madeline had started running as some sort of punishment for not finding a cure for the flu. It’s not like it was her fault or her area of expertise, but she took it personally nonetheless. Lashing out, she had blamed BennTech and the CDC for not having the right strain to prevent their tragedy.

After her morning treks around the outskirts of town, Madeline would stop by each time before she headed to work. Sylvia stocked the fridge with water for her, but she couldn’t get her to stay very long.

“No, I have some paperwork to catch up on. I thought I’d come back later,” Madeline replied, leaning back on the kitchen counter. “I guess dancing’s out, but we could take turns playing the piano.”

“I’m not ready for that yet,” Sylvia said. “I’d prefer you mingle with people your own age, like Eva and her family.”

“I’d be a miserable guest.” Madeline wiped sweat and tears from her face. “My heart has shattered into a million pieces. I don’t have the energy to pick them up and happily socialize,” she said, turning away to dismiss the topic.

“That’s not a healthy attitude,” Sylvia replied, not letting her change the subject. “Your uncle wouldn’t want you to hide in your research.”

Madeline tossed her empty water bottle in the recycling bin. “So many people died and left behind family. I want to do my part. My ultimate goal is to save everyone with a neurological disease.” She kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I’ll stay over tonight, and we’ll play a board game or cards or something.”

Madeline left and Sylvia sighed. “So close to meeting Eva’s brother and yet so far away.”

She and Eva had conspired for a few years to put Joe and Madeline in the same room at the same time to no avail. Sylvia had thought for sure it was a match. Herbert had thought so, too. Actually, he was the one to suggest it. For an hour, Sylvia hobbled around the farmhouse looking for some kind of sign from Herbert. Not a one.

As she put creamer in her mug, someone knocked on the front door. Curious, she walked toward it. “Now, who could that be? Mary and Joseph looking for an inn? That was last night,” she said, amused with herself.

Opening the door, she grinned at her guest. Part of that couple stood on her porch, figuratively and literally. Joe Roberts held a canvas grocery bag and a bouquet of purple roses.

“Joseph, come in. Welcome,” she said, stepping back. He would always be Joseph to her now.

Inside, he stomped his boots on the door mat. “Merry Christmas.” He handed her the bag. “The care packages are from Eva, and these are from me,” he said. His hand held the square box that stabilized and protected the short, fat vase. The florist had created a tightly packed dome of a dozen, vibrant, purple roses.

“Sure. A break from the chaos at Eva’s would be nice,” he said, slipping off his boots.

“Wonderful.” Carrying the canvas bag, she motioned him toward the kitchen.

Joseph set the flowers on the table and slipped his coat over the back of a chair before sitting down. “I thought these were pretty, too. For some reason, they called out to me and made me think of you.”

“This is considerate of you and your sister,” she said, unloading the bag.

Sylvia put the food containers of ham, scalloped potatoes, yams, and slices of pumpkin pie in the fridge. Eva must have known Madeline wouldn’t stop by there, so she sent Joseph here. They had horrible timing.

“I wanted to check in with you since I didn’t have a chance to attend Herbert’s funeral,” he said as she poured them each a cup of coffee. He leaned over to smell the flowers then took the mug she offered. “How have you been doing?”

Sitting diagonally to him, she sipped her coffee. “Some days are better than others.”

“Yeah, the holidays can be rough,” he said. “After our best friend Taylor’s parents died, that first Christmas was brutal. All the traditions we grew up with seemed to have died, too.” With a matter-of-fact attitude, he empathized with her grief. She found it comforting.

“I miss him every day. I still expect him to walk through the front door,” she replied.

Leaning back, Joseph retrieved the box of tissues on the counter by her stack of cookbooks and set it between them. “Is all that pain worth it?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Tennyson’s quote: Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” He shifted in his chair. “Is it better?” he asked.

Pushing the tissue box aside, she reached for his hand not sure if he’d pull away. He gently lay his other over hers, warming them. His eyes seemed to search her face for the answers.

“I have a lifetime of loving memories with Herbert that I’d never give up. Your time will come,” she replied.

He sat back in his chair, letting go of her hand, shielding his vulnerability. Her niece did that often. Sylvia had tried to get her to share her feelings, too, but Madeline had only touched the surface, pushing her pain deep down inside her core.

Contemplating her answer, Joseph stared into his empty mug. “I want my life to be better, but I’m tired of searching.”

“Trust in God’s plan,” she said. She supposed she should do that, too. It was easier giving good advice than believing in it. Today, it proved extremely difficult.

He looked up and smiled. “Eva has said that to me on many occasions. Are you two hanging out together?”

She chuckled. “Maybe,” she replied.

“Well, I better get back,” he said, sliding his chair away from the table. “Thank you for the, uh, coffee.”

Glad he trusted her enough to open up albeit briefly, she joined him at the front door. After shoving his feet back into his boots, he gave her a brief hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you for the roses, Joseph. Take care.”

“You, too,” he replied, before leaving.

Sylvia inhaled the scent of the roses and snatched the tiny envelope sticking out of the top. Joseph had drawn two linking hearts on the otherwise blank card. She smiled at his thoughtfulness. Taking the bouquet out of the protective box, she saw another printed card from the floral shop stuck to the side:

Purple Roses symbolize transcendental enchantment.

The giver of the purple roses seeks to express a deep magnetism and charm

enticing the recipient to fall in love at the very first meeting.

Sylvia wondered if Joseph saw this and knew about the meaning. Touching a velvety petal, she sighed. She suspected loneliness had invaded Joseph’s life as it had Madeline’s.

“Why can’t we get them together? Herbert, are you seeing this disconnection? I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.” A dash of anger added to her mixture of sadness and heartache.

Carrying a backpack, Madeline stomped the snow off her boots as she entered through the kitchen’s back door. Spotting the purple roses, she tossed her winter coat toward the hook, missing it. She absently kicked off her boots.

“What did I miss?” Madeline asked. “Who brought you flowers?”

“A friend. Aren’t they beautiful?” Sylvia replied.

Madeline deeply inhaled their scent. “Oh my gosh, these are intoxicating.” She grabbed the card with Joe’s interlinking hearts, flipping it over. “Do I know your admirer? I’m a little jealous,” she said with a grin.

“No, you don’t know him,” she replied. She wanted to add yet, but she held her tongue.

“I think I’d like to,” Madeline whispered almost to herself as she caressed the petals.

Surprised by her comment, Sylvia watched her niece sit down and pull the roses closer. She hadn’t seen Madeline smile in a long time. Was she enchanted with Joe’s purple roses? Her niece’s mood lightened as she put her face near them to breathe in the fragrance.

Tilting her head, Madeline looked closer at the vase. “Didn’t Uncle Herbert give you a vase like this one, years ago?”

“What?” Sylvia said, seeing the cobalt blue rose bowl for the first time.

“I think this is identical to the one on the dresser in your bedroom,” Madeline said with a smile.

Gaping in disbelief, Sylvia flashed back to the night she fell in love. At the local American Legion’s Annual Spring Fling, the young man in the black suit and crooked tie had smiled at her. She had blushed bright pink when he took her hand for the first time. She and Herbert had danced the night away as if they were the only ones at the party. The next day, he had sent her the exact same vase filled with pink roses.

Reaching for a tissue, Sylvia sobbed. Her body trembled. This was the message she desperately needed. Herbert was nearby, and he would have a hand in Joe and Madeline’s eventual romance.

Thank you, my Angel. Her shaken faith now fortified.

xxx

What happens next? Will Joe and Madeline meet? Sylvia and Eva plot to make it so. And, yes, sparks most certainly fly.

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Lately, I’ve dabbled in another writing medium that condenses every word and sentence to a bare minimum—screenwriting. Challenge accepted. I’m competitive with the me I once was yesterday, last week, last year.

In a Can I Do It moment, I shortened the descriptions of the books in my Series into four lines each. Why? For practice, of course. Is it poetic? I don’t know, but I like it. At the end of the day, isn’t that what matters most to a writer?

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Nanotechnology is the understanding and control of matter at dimensions of roughly 1 to 100 nanometers, where unique phenomena enable novel applications. Scientists don’t fully understand how nano-drugs affect the body’s chemical and physiological processes.

It’s fascinating and terrifying. What if these small particles invaded our body without our knowledge? What if someone could tap into our brain to control our actions? Who would have the courage to stop it?

In this gripping stand-alone novel, Dr. Madeline Pierce, a dedicated scientist working in nanotechnology, has pain in her heart from an abusive relationship. She hides in her research. His charisma masking his loneliness, FBI Agent Joe Roberts searches for an instant chemistry with his soulmate, the one person who will love him for his faults not in spite of them.

When Madeline discovers discrepancies at her medical research facility, the FBI sends Joe as a courtesy. Joe and Madeline soon realize they have bigger issues to deal with other than their Chemical Attraction.

In the nearby farming town, animals violently attack the residents. Someone is experimenting outside the laboratory. Are human test subjects next? With the help of Joe’s sister Eva, a physician assistant at the local hospital, and her husband Chief Matt Connor, Joe and Madeline hunt for this new bio-weapon before the death toll rises.

Explore sinister scientific research and the intense chemistry of love and lust in the thriller, Chemical Attraction, now on SALE for $0.99

Reviews

“Christina manages to keep us involved in this rather intellectual venture without ever losing our interest in the romance side.”

“The medical mystery at the heart of the story is an intriguing one parlaying it out in bits and pieces, making for an exciting read. Intriguing throughout, but the action at the end had me on the edge of my seat and delivered a few surprises I hadn’t expected.”

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When my daughter’s friend from Barcelona, Spain visited this past spring, I decided it was time to check off an item on my bucket list. Learning Spanish topped the list. As a translator, this young man knows four languages: English, Dutch, Spanish, and Catalan. I find that absolutely amazing.

For his next visit to the U.S., I wanted to learn a few words and phrases hoping to make him feel welcome. Well, he offered to help. He rewrote an excerpt of Chemical Attraction from English to Spanish and then he recorded it. Wow!

Since I know my story and characters better than anyone, I found the translation and exciting tutorial incredibly helpful. Hearing Joe, Madeline, and Sylvia come to life in Spanish was a bit surreal, too. I made this video. Follow along and enjoy.

Gracias, Kevin Nasarre Krols!

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I came across the Greenlight Adaption Contest—a contest adapting novels to screenplays and then into movies—and thought, “Sure, why not?” I had extra in my budget. What’s the worst that could happen? A rejection? Please. I’m a writer. It’s part of the job.

I focused on the positives. With hope and excitement, I submitted Chemical Attraction, my romantic thriller. I had no idea what the judges were looking for in their screening process. When I wrote it, I envisioned the movie in my head. Isn’t that what writers and readers do?

Well, the day came to announce the quarterfinalists. I checked my cell phone for an email. Nothing. Okay, moving on. It wasn’t until later that day that I got on my computer. There it was in my spam folder.

“Congratulations on being a quarterfinalist.”

Awesome! I wanted to post on my social media sites, but I texted my husband, our children and my sister instead. To me, this was a big deal. Validation.

Can I make it over the next hurdle? The day of the semifinalist announcement, I checked the website then the results link. What did I see? The cover art of Chemical Attraction.

Checking out the amazing stories, covers, and authors, I knew I had stiff competition. Doubt seeped in. I’m not a runner. Can I make it over the next hurdle to become a finalist? The battle in my head volleyed between of course and of course not. Again, I withheld the news. Only one other friend knew—a fellow writer, who also steps out of her comfort zone for her passions.

Then, I watched the video announcing the finalists—a tiny taste of what Oscar and Emmy nominations felt like. Announcer James Northway called out the third finalist out of the ten: “Chemical Attraction by Christina Thompson.”

I’m in? No joke? I had to watch the clip two more times to make sure I didn’t imagine it.

Holy Moly, I’m a finalist! I would receive a crystal award no matter what happened next. Still not wanting to jinx my chances, I withheld my excitement from social media. I did send the link to my publisher at 48fourteen. Juanita Samborski’s the reason I was a finalist after all. With the release of last year’s The Kindred Code, the three other books in the Chemical Attraction Series received new covers and were put in chronological order. (I had previously referred to The Kindred Code as the sequel to the prequel…too much of a mouthful. 48fourteen agreed.)

When I asked my son where I should put my award, he mockingly knocked all of his Air Force medals and memorabilia displayed on a bookshelf onto the floor. His funny gesture made my heart soar. He understood how hard I worked as a writer. He shared my excitement.

Now another ten days of waiting…

How do I not think about the possibilities? How do I productively pass the time until the announcement? My concentration level now at a new low. I needed busy work. Our house is cleaner than it’s ever been. We also have two organized junk drawers.

Finally, Greenlight made the announcement. I didn’t win.

So what happens now? Like always, I keep preparing for the next opportunity. I keep working hard. I keep taking chances. I keep pushing through my comfort zone.

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Frowning, Stuart stared at Taylor as she walked away. “She’s the one?” he mumbled, picking up her stool.

He knew he shouldn’t have cut the class short, but he didn’t want to miss kickoff. He needed some kind of normalcy to his disrupted routine. It had taken an extra fifteen minutes to talk Reese into letting him watch the game in peace. When he had entered the bar, he couldn’t believe his luck. She was sitting alone by the small TV.

He enjoyed talking football with this sexy, young woman who was into it as much as he was. Her tenderness and compassion intrigued him. Could she really feel someone’s pain? He wondered if she could feel his, because his mood lightened just being around her. The pressure against his chest lessened, allowing him to take deeper breaths.

Putting his self-control to the test, he had resisted the urge to touch her until she slipped off her stool. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her. His body jolted with an electric shock. His parents believed in the chemistry of love at first sight. This wasn’t it, was it?

He slowly turned toward the bar to sip his beer. What the hell was the matter with him? He shook his head. He was mistaken. This was lust. It had been awhile. He pushed his beer away and rubbed his hand through his hair. This was not the best time for anything, and she was his student for God’s sake. He felt drawn to her nonetheless.